Nights Dark Clutch
The dark glare
of a winter sky flickers;
it is a cold sky power move.
We can feel the light dying,
passing away willingly.
The day was short but it rubbed us raw
and the light painted itself in grey eyes.
We turn on occasional lamps.
Secretly huddle around heartbeats.
So it ends,
nothing to watch now
except a travel show on the Florida Keys.
It may help to better ignite
the embers of home fires.
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